Road Less Traveled
by Ren Mizushima
Summary: A new neighbor the summer of Harry's eighth birthday changes his whole world around when he befriends the BoyWhoLived and takes him under his wing. Feature BenderHarry, stong, but not SuperHarry. Will take a while to get to Elemental Countries.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Harry shivered from his hiding place while his fat lard of a cousin stomped away, furious at not being able to lay into his living punching bag. The 'Harry-Hunting' had been particularly bad lately and it was all the six year old could do to get away for a game or two. He knew he'd have to return to his chores soon enough, but couldn't resist taking a short time of rest for himself. Even if it consisted of ducking beneath the fence of house number seven of Privet Drive. So relieved at his escape, he neglected to hear the soft rustle of feet in the grass, at least until the owner of said feet spoke up.

"What are you doing here, _xiaohai_?" The small boy gasped and spun to face the speaker with wide green eyes. He had forgotten that number seven, which had stood empty for nearly a year, was now occupied by the newest resident of Privet Drive.

He was an older gentleman, small and bent and wrinkled. His black hair was shot through with silver and a pair of spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose. He had a soft smile that warmed his onyx colored eyes and deepened the lines on his face. Those jet colored eyes were sharp, not in the sense of being unkind but rather they gave the impression that nothing ever escaped their sight. They easily took in everything about the boy, from his oversized clothes and cracked glasses to the varied collection of cuts and scrapes found on his person. Inwardly he frowned, though his smile never wavered.

"Well, _xiaohai_?" He asked again.

Harry glanced down, "Nothing", he mumbled.

"Really?" the old man kneeled down to face him. "It is not every day that 'nothing' brings a young boy to hide himself away in my hydrangeas. What is your name, _xiaohai_?"

"Harry Potter," he said nervously meeting the old man's eyes.

"_Hěn gāoxìng rènshì n__ǐ__, _Harry Potter. My name is Shirong Wu.

The eight year-olds face twisted in puzzlement, "H-han go sh-shin? What's that mean? And what did you call me earlier? S-shao something?"

The man- Mr. Wu, Harry's mind supplied- gave another little laugh. "_Xiaohai_, it means child. _Hěn gāoxìng rènshì n__ǐ_ means that 'it is nice to meet you' in my native language."

"What's that?" Harry asked, his curiosity overcoming his nerves.

"Mandarin" at the bewildered look he received Mr. Wu elaborated, "Chinese."

"You're from China?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Yes," the gentleman replied. "I lived there for most of my life. In fact, until I came here I had never been anywhere else."

Harry looked at him wide-eyed, "I've never met anyone that wasn't from England before," he confided. Hesitantly he asked, "What was it like?"

"Well," Mr. Wu said. "It was quite different from England" He paused, finally becoming aware that the grass they were kneeling on was still damp from the rain the night before and said dampness was beginning to spread to their trousers. "Why don't we move up to the porch bench?" he suggested. "It's far more comfortable than the wet grass. And if you'll allow me, I have a few things that can take care of those scrapes for you."

At the first part of the question Harry glanced down in confusion that soon faded as he saw the damp circles forming on the knees of his whale-sized clothes. Before the second comment had registered in his brain he had already nodded in quick agreement. Not giving the boy a chance to change his mind, Mr. Wu quickly got him situated on the porch bench and fetched his first-aid kit. Once they were both comfortably seated Mr. Wu began to speak.

"Sixty-two years ago I was born in a small village in China, away from the hustle and bustle of cities. We used to say that it was a secret village, hidden away from the rest of the world. Everyone did their part to help; whether it was working together, feeding together, and bartering for whatever skills were needed. Outside the town was a path leading up to a temple. All the children would have lessons there. The monks were very kind, they taught us how to read and write and figure. Once we were old enough, we would walk to the neighboring town to begin at 'real' school. Some of us went onto college, leaving to the big cities. Many only stayed long enough to learn skills to bring back to our home. A few found lives there, but would always return for a visit during village wide celebrations." Mr. smiled in remembrance.

"Did you leave for the city too, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I became a teacher," he answered, starting to clean a small cut on the boy's arm. "As soon as I graduated I returned to the monks to ask for a place as a teacher among them. I remained there for over thirty years before I moved here."

Harry frowned in puzzlement, "But if you liked it so much, sir, why did you leave?" he questioned as that hurt was finished and the old man moved onto the next one.

Mr. Wu gave him another small smile, "Because," he said, "I felt that there was something or someone that would need me more than the temple did. There were many monks to fill my duties and we have temple placed around the globe, but there is only one Shirong Wu. I felt that there was something that needed just me, and so I came." He frowned as he looked over the newest bruise he was tending. It was a large, hand-shaped mark curling around the child's upper arm.

"Did you find out what it was?" the child asked in an excited whisper, not noticing the frown.

Mr. Wu let go a smile that deepened all the wrinkles around his black eyes. "I might have," he whispered back.

Harry was about to ask what it was when a shrill shriek tore across the friendly atmosphere.

"Boy!" his aunt's voice echoed across the street. "Get back here and finish your chores! The yard is a mess!"

Shirong watched as the child cringed and forced out a "Coming Aunt Petunia" before lifting himself to his feet.

"_Xiaohai_," ha called out. When the boy turned toward him he continued, "I did enjoy speaking of my home. If you ever feel the need, my door is always open to those who wish to hear an old man's rambling."

Harry grinned and waved to his neighbor before turning to disappear into the backyard of number four Privet Drive.

Shirong let his smile fall. He had indeed found the place he was most needed.

Author notes:

_Xiaohai_- child

_Hĕn gāoxìng rènshí nĭ- _it is nice to meet you

Shirong- scholarly honor

Wu- shaman

I do not speak Mandarin so if anyone knows how please tell me. I'd like to be sure what I think I'm writing is really correct, so PLEASE tell me if it's not!

This is eventually going to be a Harry Potter/Naruto crossover with the Avatar bending concept mixed in. Constructive reviews and criticisms would be appreciated.

Thank You!


	2. Chapter 2

Need A Title!

Chapter 2

It took less than a week for Harry to take Mr. Wu up on his offer. Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone into town and Vernon was at work. He shyly rang the doorbell and almost immediately the familiar face of Mr. Wu was smiling at him from the front entrance.

"_Zăo'ān_, good morning Harry" he said. "I was about to feed my fish in the backyard. I would welcome the company," he invited, smiling at the messy-haired child's eager nod. He stood to the side of the door, allowing the boy to move inside the house.

"Welcome to my home," the aged man chuckled as Harry stared around the room in awe. The only 'Houses' he had ever been in was Mrs. Figg's (which smelled like old cabbage and cats) and the Dursely's (which _stunk_ of cleaners and sanitizers). This house smelled wonderfully of cooking spices and just a little bit of incense. He breathed deeply of the aroma not noticing the amused look on his hosts face.

"Come, _xiaohai_," Mr. Wu led him through the kitchen, where they grabbed some food for the fish, and walked out the back door to the yard. Harry felt like his eyes would pop out of his head as he surveyed the garden.

'Garden' was an understatement. In the center of the yard was a large pond that spread out through almost the entire yard. It was contained by a raised stone and gravel pathway spotted with various plants and places to sit. One corner was taken up by a nearly three foot waterfall while the branches of a willow tree trailed through the small pond. Looking closely Harry could see orange colored fish swimming in the water. Mr. Wu led him to the edge of the pond so he could see the fish better.

"The bigger one's name is 'Bird' and the small one is called 'Good Luck'" Shirong smiled at the confused face the child had. "When I first got 'Bird' he would leap out of the water to catch the food I would toss in the water. A child about your age saw this and said he was trying to fly away, and after that I decided to call him Bird. He still does it too. Watch."

The old man took a small piece of fish food and rolled it to make a little ball. He knelt by the water and gently tossed it to the center of the pond. Harry gasped as a golden shape launched itself out of the water and snagged the morsel in mid air. Mr. Wu chuckled at his expression. "Good Luck I rescued from a festival. He was supposed to be a prize, but the bag he was carried in was dropped. I found him and got him into a new one before he died. I liked the stubborn little guy so much, I took him home!"

Harry grinned at the story as Mr. Wu spread the food over the pond. "And you brought them all the way from China?" he asked.

"Of course," Mr. Wu's eye's twinkled with mirth. "Though they probably disliked the trip."

For the next month Harry would visit with the older man during the day after he had finished his chores. He was fascinated by the stories Mr. Wu told of his life in China and travels to other countries. As he spent time with the old monk he began to gain a little weight due to the amount of snack Mr. Wu would serve him and have him bring home. They were all unfamiliar to him, but that didn't stop the scrawny child.

Shirong knew there was something wrong with the child's home life; he lived across the street from the Dursley house. He knew the family could afford food and new clothes for the boy and simply chose to neglect him. It made the mild mannered monk burn with anger and concern.

Though not a wizard himself, he did have Power, as did all those from his temple, and could recognize the Sight of it. He would have to be blind to miss the wards around Number 4; they covered the house in a thick multicolored web, anchored to the property edge. What disturbed him was the rust red rope woven amongst the brilliant strands of light. Instead of being based on the house, the thickest strand would instead follow the small boy as he went about his day, oblivious to the burden he bore. It sucked at his Wizard Magic like a leach the longer the child stayed on the property. Shirong feared that should the boy stay at Number 4 past his ninth birthday there would be irreparable damage to his magical core. Already, the connection had to be weakened through time away from the Dursley Home before it could be completely severed.

The monk sighed. Harry's magic was attempting to fight back against the leech and because of that he was having more accidental outbursts. The Dursley's would punish these magical outbursts by confining him to the house, which would then feed the leech. In order to safely severe Harry's tie to it he would have to keep the child away from the house. With that in mind, Shirong made plans to meet with the Dursley family.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley for that lovely tea," Shirong set the cup on it's saucer. "I doubt that I will truly ever become accustomed to western tea, but it can be quite enjoyable on occasion." Petunia gave an empty smile to the old monk as her husband finished his large scone.

"We're glad to finally meet our new neighbor," she said while collecting the dishes. "Though we were surprised when you approached us a full month after moving in."

The monk nodded "I'm afraid my time at the temple has left me a bit of a hermit, however, I came to your family because of something I noticed that may become a concern to you in the future. It concerns your nephew, young Harry."

In an instant his host's faces changed from a pleasant, if superficial expression, to one of a person who had just encountered a particularly foul smell.

"What about the boy?" Vernon asked harshly.

"I know he has magic-" Shirong was interrupted by Petunia's shriek.

"You're one of _Them_! A FREAK!" The monk winced at the piercing sound.

Vernon had been silent for a moment, though his face had turned an alarming shade of purple. He opened his mouth to speak when the old man had the gall to interrupt him!

Shirong shook his head "No, I am no wizard, my power lies elsewhere. But I can see magic-" the Dursleys twitched at the word "- and I felt you should know about the magic surrounding your home and binding your nephew to the property. Right now it is feeding off his magic and his magic is fighting back, which result in _incidents_" he said tactfully. "The more time he spends on the property, the more his magical outbursts he will have, at least until the web is defeated or he loses to it. While the web is bound to him, he cannot leave this area for more than a year, and by the time he is nine the web will most likely become permanently attached to his magic."

"No!" Petunia exclaimed. "He was forced on us years ago, and now you tell me he'll never leave? The old freak said just until he was seventeen!"

"Please calm yourself, woman!" Shirong barked, his anger burning at the lack of regard for their nephew, "If he spends less than seven hours a day on the property from now until the winter holidays the bond will be weak enough to break without damage to yourself or the child."

Vernon narrowed his already small eyes, "What damage?" he asked suspiciously.

Shirong gave them a gimlet smile. "This ward, the web, has three anchors. The first is your nephew, whose magic is being used to power the ward. Second is the property, which gives the ward its dimensions. Lastly is your family, you bind the ward here by your relation to the child. Distance from the binder and the area of the ward will weaken the power until we may break it. Not to mention the conditions of your binding" he added as an afterthought.

"Conditions?" Petunia asked. She had turned pale at the realization that her family was one of the things keeping the freaky boy in their home.


End file.
